


I Just Found My Spark

by missakwatson



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Bookstore, College Student Stiles, Derek Hale is a grouchy bookstore owner, Everyone Is Alive, Fluff, Laura Hale is a badass bartender, M/M, Sterek Reverse Bang 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 09:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15264012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missakwatson/pseuds/missakwatson
Summary: When a mysterious — and incredibly attractive — stranger named Stiles wanders into Hale’s Secondhand, Derek finds himself inexplicably intrigued. The problem? Stiles seems to have no idea that he totally has magical powers, and it’s up to Derek to break the news.Derek is screwed, Laura is always right, and Stiles just happens to be an unanchored spark roaming around New York City. (Also, Erica is a rock goddess turned law student with a tendency to meddle in Derek’s personal life.) What could possibly go wrong?





	I Just Found My Spark

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for the Sterek Reverse Bang 2018! I've never participated in something like this, and I can't even express how fun, challenging, and exciting it was to get to work with these amazing artists and authors (and our incredible mods — I have no idea how they executed this with such precision, but it's amazing). Please send some love to my INCREDIBLY talented and kind artist, (PBJ)*fish ([peanut-butter-jellyfish](http://peanutbutter-jelly-fish.tumblr.com) on Tumblr and skyhighjelly here on AO3)! I'm also incredibly grateful for [Sarah](https://ataudi.tumblr.com) for beta reading this efficiently and super helpfully when I needed some last-minute guidance. I am so grateful for you both! (Also, since I'm stuck on using song lyrics for titles, the title comes from "Spark" by Until the Ribbon Breaks.)

The first time Derek Hale met Stiles Stilinski was a completely unremarkable Thursday in late October.

Stiles burst into Hale's Secondhand with a gust of autumn wind and an unreasonable amount of crunchy leaves, which Derek immediately resented. _Who's going to sweep those up?_ Not the mess of flailing limbs who just waltzed in, that's for sure.

But when he turned to face the front counter for the first time, Derek felt his annoyance soften against his will. It had been a fairly slow day, like most weekdays tended to be until later in the evening, but this new stranger was — well, he was _lovely_ , for lack of a better word. His pale cheeks were flushed from the crisp autumn air, hair covered by a soft looking olive green beanie. He offered Derek a halfhearted wave when he noticed the other man watching silently from the register.

"Um. Hi," the customer said hesitantly. Derek never knew if he preferred when customers tried to be polite, or just accepted the store's comfortable silence, but he still nodded in response. "Let me know if you need help finding anything."

"Thanks." The stranger offered an easy smile and let his gaze wander the store so wildly that Derek worried he'd get whiplash.

Derek was usually pretty good at tuning out customers, but this guy seemed determined to assert his presence in the shop. Derek couldn’t help but sense him as he wandered the aisles, hands flitting along the spines of the books and Converse squeaking quietly against the aged pine floors. He muttered to himself a few times, gentle exclamations of " _huh_ " and excitement over a signed edition of _Lacuna_.

The persistent noise should have irritated Derek, but it didn’t. He had no idea why, but he told himself that he appreciated anyone who experienced the same reverence and excitement he did when surrounded by old paper and accumulated knowledge. To him, it was a natural reaction to a bookstore, but too many people seemed to treat it as a passing triviality.

Derek had just settled back into his chair with a dog-eared paperback of _Mansfield Park_ — he’d already read it before, but it had been a few years — when he heard a thunk and a muffled curse from the back of the store. From the— _Shit_. From the back left corner.

"Everything okay?" he called out hesitantly, sharpening his focus just enough to hear the customer's rapid but steady heartbeat and sense a burst of confusion in his scent.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry! I bumped into— Whoa, dude, this back room is awesome."

Derek quickly made his way to the General Reference section — strategically placed for the low traffic it usually received — and through what should have appeared to the other man as an innocuous section of blank, wood-paneled wall.

As he stepped through the threshold into the back room, Derek hesitated, cursing himself for his inattention. He should have noticed that this guy wasn't human as soon as he walked in. But the thing was, he _smelled_ completely human. Derek's instincts would have told him if the stranger were a werewolf before he even set foot in the store, and he didn’t carry the sharp ozone scent of a mage or earthy petrichor of a druid.

As he racked his brain trying to figure out how this completely average-smelling human breezed through layers of carefully placed wards and glamours, the customer continued to circle the room with the same eager reverence he'd had throughout the rest of the store. He pulled a volume from an eye-level shelf at random, a heavy old spellbook with a cover of deep maroon leather and brittle tan pages.

"Whoa, is this Medieval Latin?"

"Vulgar," Derek corrected absentmindedly, noting the way the stranger's eyes widened in appreciation.

"Wow," he breathed softly, before abruptly closing the book and gently sliding it back into place on the shelf. "Sorry," he said with an abashed smile that _absolutely did not_ make Derek's heart skip a traitorous beat. "I guess I shouldn't just be pulling antiques off the shelf."

Derek cleared his throat and looked away, taking the excuse. "Oh. Uh. Yeah. It's fine. I just... have a small collection. Of antiques." It wasn’t technically a lie, though Derek suspected the stranger wouldn’t have been able to sense if it were anyway. He clearly had no idea what any of these books meant — Derek tried not to brag (well, usually tried), but Hale’s Secondhand housed one of the largest collections of magical texts in New York. Most magic users would be able to identify the titles lining the shelves immediately, if only from old stories and references in newer volumes. They were antiques, reference books spanning centuries and cultures, and they were _powerful_. There was no way this mysterious customer was just feigning ignorance. While remaining totally unaware of his surroundings, he had somehow managed to bypass the wards, as well as the wards-on-top-of-wards that would keep the books bound shut just in case a random human came across them.

But that's exactly what happened, and now Derek had a _random human_ standing in the middle of his secret magical library.

"Was there anything in particular you were looking for?" Derek offered, trying to figure out both what he should do about the stranger, and how to get him out of the back room as quickly as possible. He didn’t feel threatened at all, satisfied with the genuine nature of the man's wide-eyed innocence. But in almost seven years of owning the shop, nothing close to this had ever happened to Derek. _I need to call Laura_ , he decided absently. _She'll know what to do._

"Oh! Yeah. I had a couple things I wanted to try and find for a paper. I was just gonna go to Barnes and Noble, but..." He trailed off with a shrug. "I was passing by, and I figured I might as well check this place out."

Derek couldn’t help but feel a flutter of affinity. "Okay. I can help you find what section you need, if you want," he said, gesturing out toward the rest of the store.

"Awesome, man, thanks. I'm Stiles," he offered, and Derek took his hand without a second thought. His hands were warm and soft, and— _Focus, Derek._

"Derek," he replied. "It's my store. I mean, I own it." He didn’t know why he offered the information, other than the knowledge that Stiles' reaction would no doubt be approval.

"No way! Perfect, okay, that's great. I have a lot of stuff that's out of print that I wanted to try and track down. Do you have, like, a mythology section or something?"

 _I'm literally a werewolf,_ the unhelpful voice in the back of Derek's mind replied. _This entire room is the real mythology section._

Derek's eyes widened, and he faked a cough to cover an exclamation of surprise. Thankfully, he did have a mythology section, free of actively magical texts, tucked safely in the polar opposite corner of the store. _Of course_ that would be the section this perplexing — _and handsome_ — stranger would be looking for. Derek’s afternoon was getting weirder and weirder, and it had started as soon as Stiles stepped into the store.

"Yeah, actually, I do. Let me show you."

***

Derek found himself unexpectedly absorbed in Stiles' search. He hadn't realized how much he missed getting to do this kind of research and cross-referencing, but the more he thought about it, the last time he felt like he had really put his skills to use was in college. While he loved his regular customers, keeping Mrs. Patterson up to date on the latest supernatural romance novels ( _if only she knew_ ) took a lot less effort than tracking down the obscure anthologies Stiles needed.

Over the course of their conversation — which Stiles constantly kept moving — Derek learned that Stiles was relatively new to the area, having started a master's program at NYU just a few months earlier.

"I did my undergrad — anthropology, with a focus on folklore and mythology — back closer to home, but it just felt, I don't know— Right, I guess?" he said, hands tracing arcs in the air as if to communicate his emotional development. "To leave for a while," he clarified.

Derek nodded, trying to choose his words carefully. "I know what you mean. I did the same thing. For a lot of reasons."

Thankfully, Stiles didn't press him, but just nodded appreciatively as he continued to scan the shelf in front of him.

Derek happened to have a few of the better-known volumes on Stiles' list, but there were several that Derek hadn't even heard of. When Stiles mentioned that he wasn't having any luck tracking down an old anthology from the 1970s — "it's supposed to have this really cool analysis of the homoerotic subtext of Patroclus and Achilles’ relationship," he said, which _absolutely did not_ make the tips of Derek's ears turn red — Derek stubbornly refused to give up finding it.

"It's cool, man. Maybe I can get it on interlibrary loan," Stiles said wistfully after regaling Derek with an extensive explanation of his project, a discussion of how queer and feminist theorists analyzed mythology during second and third wave feminism.

"ILL can take weeks. Hang on, let me..." Derek trailed off and moved to the computer by the register with a determined frown.

Stiles leaned onto the counter, chin resting in his hands.

"What, you've got a back alley trading post for out-of-print dissertations?" he asked, clearly bemused.

"Yes," Derek answered completely earnestly, trying not to think too hard about the way Stiles' smirk reached his whiskey-colored eyes.

Stiles laughed, as if caught completely off-guard by Derek's answer. "Alright, man. Show me what you can do."

The best Derek could do turned out to be begging Boyd for an expedited long-term loan from Columbia over an increasingly desperate series of texts, which culminated in Derek owing Boyd a fully covered tab on their next five nights out together, but Stiles didn't need to know that. After all, he was a customer with a problem, and Derek had the resources to find a solution. Derek would do this for anyone.

Okay, he never had before and had never really _wanted_ to, but in _theory_ , he would have. Maybe. It had nothing to do with the way Stiles had stepped into Derek's store completely wonderstruck, or laughed with his whole body, or was apparently _magical._

It had nothing to do with any of that, and it certainly didn't have anything to do with the way Derek's heart started racing when Stiles leaned into Derek's space to look at the monitor over his shoulder. Nothing at all.

"Seriously, dude. I really appreciate it," Stiles said for what felt like the hundredth time as Derek rang him up for the rest of his purchase.

"No problem. Your project sounds interesting. I'm happy to help," he said with complete honesty. For someone who grew up surrounded by people with powers most humans didn't even realize existed, Derek had never lost his fascination with the transformation of stories and myths across cultures. He didn't miss the way Stiles flushed and stood almost imperceptibly straighter at the praise.

"Well, thanks. Maybe, I mean— I don't know if it will be any good, but I’m hoping I can keep working on it after I finish this class and turn it into my thesis," he said.

Derek nodded as he handed him his receipt and a pen, along with a blank Post-It note. He admired the clarity with which Stiles described his goals and vision — half the time, Derek had felt like he was completely lost when choosing his research focus in grad school.

"If you could just write your phone number down—" Stiles' eyes jumped up to Derek's as his heartbeat stuttered, and Derek completely lost his train of thought when Stiles subconsciously flicked his tongue across his lips.

"Uh. So I can— Um. Call you. When the book comes in," Derek finished softly.

"Oh! Uh. Yeah. Great," Stiles said, shoulders slumping as he scribbled a squiggle of a signature on the receipt.

"It should only take a couple days." Derek passed him his bag, the books inside carefully stacked.

"Cool. Thanks again," Stiles said as he picked up the bag. He hesitated as he reached to the door, turning back to offer Derek a small wave, just as he had done when he entered. Derek returned the gesture, hoping he didn't seem as aloof as he had earlier.

As the door shut with a soft clang, Derek slumped back against the counter.

"No problem," he murmured to the store, which seemed so still and silent after containing Stiles’ presence for the past hour or so.

Who the hell — and _what_ the hell — was this guy, and why did he make Derek feel so breathless?

***

Derek took a deep breath, glaring at the phone in his hand as if it had somehow personally betrayed him. He exhaled sharply as he pressed Laura's contact, choosing to call her now before he had time to talk himself out of it. There was a chance she was busy, but weekday afternoons tended to be slow at the bar until everyone got off work later in the evening — and besides, Derek never called her unless he actually had a real problem, unlike Erica, who insisted on calling over texting and accepted everyone else's discomfort with glee.

His hunch was right.

"What's up?" Laura answered on the third ring.

Derek realized belatedly that he really had no way to describe anything he was thinking about to Laura.

"Somebody came into the store today. Into the back room," he said, leaning forward onto the counter.

"Okay?" Laura replied.

"I mean, like, he went into the back room on accident. Like he didn't even realize it was warded."

"Huh," Laura said, attention clearly divided between Derek and whatever she was working on at the bar. "Maybe it's time to call that guy... What was his name? Mark? And ask him to redo them."

"No. He checked them a few months ago. I'd be able to feel if something were wrong. It's like he... Just didn't know. Like he doesn't know what he is," Derek said, gesturing as he tried to explain, even though he knew Laura couldn't see it.

"Okay…” Laura drawled. “Do you know him? Was he just a regular customer?"

"No. I've never met him before. He's... a student. He needed some books for a project. That's the other thing, too — He seems human. He doesn't smell like... I don't know. He smells human," Derek asserted. Just barely, he heard Laura still on the other end of the line. He could almost picture her straighten up and look forward, interest finally piqued.

"So you make a habit of smelling your customers?" Derek could hear the smirk in her voice, and instantly regretted admitting to that particular detail.

"You know what I mean," he snapped. Laura laughed breezily. Derek would never admit it to her face, but that was part of why he called her — something about the balance of her sternness and humor always comforted him when he had a problem.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. No weird beachy smells? No tree smells? Nothing burning?"

"Nothing. Just... college." It had been a few years, but Derek was still able to instantly recognize the particular scent of laundry detergent, fried food, and old paper that seemed to cling to his clothes all the way through his undergraduate career.

"Weird. What do you think?" Laura asked, neatly deflecting the conversation back to Derek. _So why did you call?_ was what she was really asking, but they both knew that already.

"I don't know. I guess that's why I called. I wanted—" —there it was, the forced admission under sisterly pressure— "—to know what you thought."

"Well," Laura said slowly, pondering. "It is a little weird. I don't think I've ever met anyone who just straight up wasn't connected to their magic. But I mean, our sample is a little skewed."

"That's pretty much what I thought. I mean... I don't know. He seems... nice. And if someone got ahold of that kind of disconnected power..." Derek trailed off, remembering bits and pieces of things their mother's Emissary had told them over the years.

"Yeah," Laura finished. "Bad news."

"He's coming back in a few days to pick up a book that Boyd is lending me, but I don't really want to just spring any of this on him. Especially if he really doesn't know what any of this is."

"Damn," Laura said with a chuckle. "You called in a favor from Boyd? Don't think you've ever done that for Mrs. Samuelson when she needed a paranormal romance fix."

She wasn't wrong.

Derek cleared his throat. "Anyway."

"Anyway." He could still hear the smile in Laura's voice, but she was at least playing along for the moment. "Here's what I would do. Which means it's probably the exact opposite of what you would do, but _you_ called _me_ to ask, so I'm considering it solicited advice."

"Right."

"When he comes to pick up his order, ask him to come by the Blue Moon sometime. If he can get in, we'll know if you're right, and then we can figure out how to tell him."

"And if he can't?"

"You said he didn't react at all, right? I don't think that's going to be the problem. And if we need to cover, I'll be there, and I'm _excellent_ at covering."

Derek immediately flashed back to when they both lived at home and Laura was still in high school — four years of carefully orchestrated sneaking out through windows and sliding doors, all accomplished outside the watch of an uncannily perceptive mother who also happened to be an alpha werewolf.

"Yeah. Okay. That's... a good idea."

"I'm going to need to ask for that in writing. Okay, I gotta go, Der, but text me if you need anything."

"Thanks, Laura."

“No problem.” This time, Derek didn't mind the smile in his big sister's voice.

***

On Wednesday, Boyd dropped off the book Stiles had ordered. For any other customer, Derek would have just called during work hours, prayed they wouldn't pick up, and left a short, curt voicemail instructing them to come retrieve their order at the store. But for Stiles — well, who knew when he was in class? And college students never checked their voicemails anyway, Derek reasoned. He might as well send a text, just so he wouldn't forget.

_This is Derek from Hale's Secondhand. Your book came in today. We're open every day except Monday from 10 a.m. to 9 p.m., so come by anytime to pick it up._

Derek frowned at his phone before he hastily tapped out another message.

_But if you need to come in on Monday, just let me know. I'll be around anyway._

It was the truth; Derek split most of his time between the shop, Blue Moon, or the apartments he and Laura lived in above the bar.

His glance darted around the store. He should start repairing that bookshelf in the Mystery section, because it was a total waste of time to sit here and wait for...

_Stiles Stilinski. 2 iMessages._

Maybe not, on second thought.

_Stiles: Hey man!! Sounds great. I actually get done with class at like 3 so I'll drop by after. Thx!!!_

It didn't warrant a reply, but if Derek wanted to become Stiles'... friend, he should be courteous, right?

_No problem. I'll be here._

***

Stiles swirled into the shop with roughly the same amount of unintentional bravado as he had the first time. Derek couldn't see the door when he came in — he had finally decided to fix that damn shelf — but as the bell clanged, he immediately recognized the chaotic but oddly sonorous rhythm which accompanied Stiles.

"In the back," Derek called out, attention still focused on making sure the shelf was level.

As Stiles rounded the corner, Derek couldn't help but note a stutter in his heartbeat.

"Um... Hey!" Stiles said with a wave, tearing his gaze away from Derek's hands to meet his eyes. Derek quickly shifted his attention back to what he was doing, setting the wooden plank down carefully and resting his hammer on top of it.

"Hey. Boyd brought your order over this morning," Derek said, gesturing to the front of the store. “How’s the paper going?”

"Great, man, thanks. I have most of my outline done but I _really_ need a couple essays in there to flesh it out. I'm pretty sure it'll all come together after that, but Google Books only had every other page available in the preview, so I could be totally screwed, but who knows."

Derek smiled. "I remember the feeling," he said, and he meant it. While he'd ultimately enjoyed getting his Master's, he still hadn't forgotten the particularly frenzied feeling that accompanied a big project, especially when it relied on other scholars’ esoteric research.

"What was your degree in?" Stiles asked, looking back at Derek as they walked to the front of the store.

"Library and information science," he replied, gesturing around him as if it explained his niche profession. Stiles nodded appreciatively, fingers absently tracing the shelves as he walked by.

“That’s awesome. I thought about switching to a library science major when I was a sophomore, actually, but I had already taken too many anthropology electives to switch and still graduate on time.”

“My sister is majoring in anthropology, actually,” Derek said, the offhand comment reminding him that he needed to text Cora soon. They didn’t talk often while they were apart, but they didn’t really have to. His relationship with his younger sister was different than the way he interacted with Laura, and he was grateful for the bond he shared with both of them.

“Big family, or just the two of you?” Stiles asked as Derek stepped behind the front counter. Derek laughed, partly because their family was relatively large, but also because the addition of non-blood related pack members meant the family’s network spread across an impressive swath of states and even countries.

“Big family. I have two sisters — I’m in the middle — but we have a big extended family,” Derek said, realizing as he spoke that mentioning Laura could potentially be the perfect transition to invite Stiles to the Blue Moon. “What about you?”

“Just me, but I’ve known my best friend since we were born. Our moms were best friends,” he said with a soft smile that almost struck Derek as sad. He realized that Stiles had spoken in the past tense, wondering if that meant what he thought it probably did.

Derek settled for humming sympathetically, hoping Stiles wouldn’t feel the need to offer any information he wasn’t comfortable giving a functional stranger. He couldn’t help but feel like they were _friends_ even though they really had only known each other for a few hours of combing through the shelves of Hale’s Secondhand.

As Derek carefully wrote down the book’s due date and Boyd’s email — just in case — he decided it was as good a time as any to set Laura’s plan into motion.

“Actually, um, my other sister… She owns a bar. In the Village. If you ever need something to do, since you haven’t been here that long…” He trailed off, annoyed by his own skyrocketing heartbeat and total lack of preparation. He should have planned his invitation ahead of time, but then, he didn’t think he needed to. Stiles was just a guy, a potential friend. _A_ cute _guy,_ he could almost hear in Erica’s voice in the back of his head.

His nerves were immediately assuaged, however, when he saw the excitement on Stiles’ face.

“Whoa, dude! That’s awesome. Your family is the coolest,” he said, nodding appreciatively as Derek slid the book across the counter.

Derek couldn’t help but smile, even though he knew how much merciless gloating he would have received if Laura had been there to hear Stiles’ comment. “Laura’s good at what she does,” he replied. And it was the truth, even if he didn’t always say it to her face. Since Stiles had reacted so positively, Derek decided to push it just a little further.

“Our friend is playing a show there on Friday, actually. Just a short set. If you wanted to stop by.” Derek knew Erica would be entirely too self-satisfied if she ever found out that he had actively used her to convince Stiles to come, even if she was incredibly talented. He couldn’t help but notice how Stiles’ heartbeat kicked up at the question.

“Honestly, I’ve spent most of my Friday nights at home playing video games and pretending I don’t have shit to actually be working on. So doing something that’s not that sounds great,” he said, fidgeting with the cover of the book he was holding.

“Okay,” Derek said with a smile, ducking his head down and hoping to God Stiles couldn’t see the flush heating his face.

“Okay,” Stiles replied. “Okay. Cool. I’ll see you Friday, then?”

“See you Friday,” Derek said, wondering when his well-intentioned attempt to get to know Stiles had started feeling like the beginning of something else entirely, and if Laura had already guessed that would happen.

***

On Friday, Derek decided to close the shop early and head over to the Blue Moon a couple hours before Erica's set was scheduled to start. He hadn't been by to see Laura in a few days anyway, so he wanted to talk to her before Stiles came.

Stiles had seemed enthusiastic about Derek's invitation, but he also knew full well that last minute plan changes were par for the course in college; Erica and Laura had always poked fun at him for his ability to mysteriously disappear from parties or avoid outings all together. But to Derek's surprise, a message notification lit up his screen just as he was locking up the store.

_Stiles: Hey, man! Forgot to ask what time that show starts tonight._

  1. _Come by whenever._



_Stiles: Can't wait :)_

Derek fumbled with his keys, forcing himself not to read too much into Stiles' reply. He'd only been in town for a few months. Derek was just a new acquaintance, and — he forced himself to stop his train of thought. Regardless of any attraction he might feel toward Stiles, the whole point of this was to introduce him to a group of people he could hopefully feel comfortable with and then, somehow, break the news that they were all— werewolves. Oh, and Stiles was... something. _Yeah. Great plan._ Derek balled up his hands into the pockets of his jacket, physically shaking his head as if to clear the conflicting thoughts and nerves crowding his mind.

Whatever happened tonight, at least he could say he tried.

***

When Derek stepped into the Blue Moon twenty minutes later, he felt his nerves settle almost reflexively.

Though it appeared to most random passersby to be an unremarkable, run-down building with a never-changing "FOR LEASE" sign nailed above the entryway, the Blue Moon Tavern was over a hundred years old and had served a large, diverse clientele for just as long. Just like the "antique" room in Hale's Secondhand, layers of wards meant that only shapeshifters, witches, druids, and other supernatural creatures could see or enter the tavern. Laura had first wandered in almost ten years ago after losing track of her friends on a frantic night out. She had fallen in love with the bar's warmth and easy camaraderie almost immediately, and it became a regular spot for Laura and the group of werewolves she'd immediately sniffed out — literally — from her dorm.

The owner at the time, a stern but kind witch whose appearance belied her true age, decided that the fates had brought Laura to her doorstep just in time for her to retire. Fate sounded good enough for Laura, who finally settled on a business major after cycling through five other options. Like everything in Laura and Cora’s lives, it seemed to just fall into place, and it had become such a fixture of their lives that he barely had time to feel overly nostalgic for their parents' home.

Derek stepped through the threshold, suddenly conscious of a routine that had become second nature to him. What would Stiles think of this place? Would he feel the energy in the air, just a hair more charged than the sidewalk outside? Would his magic, whatever it was, react at all?

Before he had time to think too deeply about it, Laura's head snapped up to make eye contact with her brother. "Aren't you supposed to be working right now?" she yelled across the bar, already pouring a whiskey and Coke for Derek.

"I decided to give myself the afternoon off," he said, pulling out a barstool and taking the glass that Laura slid him across the bar.

"See, mom always told me that you were the one with the work ethic, but I don't think I've given myself a day off in..."

"Last week," Derek interrupted. "You and Erica wanted to get drunk and go to the Riveters game."

"Okay, I was _getting there_ , but before that it had definitely been a while," Laura said, leaning over the bar to glare at Derek. "Your mystery man coming by tonight?" That was Laura — always straight to the point, _especially_ when she thought Derek was hiding something.

"Yes." Derek looked Laura in the eye and calmly took a sip of his drink, stubbornly refusing to offer up any more details than she explicitly asked for. She glared at him for a moment before standing back up, moving to restock the bar.

"So what's the plan? Am I allowed to flash my eyes at him? Maybe a little hint of fang?"

Derek rolled his eyes, but Laura's comment struck one of his many raw nerves.

"No eyes, no fangs, and _definitely_ no letting Erica sit next to him," Derek said, setting his glass down firmly on the bar as if to emphasize his point.

Laura scoffed. "That's not the worst idea, but it's still not much of a plan."

 _I know,_ Derek wanted to say, but it hung between them whether he acknowledged it out loud or not.

Instead, he chose to repeat what he'd been telling himself for most of the week. "If everyone gets along, it'll come up naturally. This is a —" Derek hesitated, unsure exactly how to explain why he was even here, accepting Laura's suggestion to invite Stiles in the first place.

"— A friend thing. I know, Der. I'm not gonna act like it's not weird to see you make an effort, but it's kind of nice. I get it." Laura's tone was still playful, but Derek noticed the softness to her eyes — just like their mom when she started getting nostalgic about their childhoods.

Derek nodded, watching the ice cubes swirl around his glass before taking the last swig of his drink. Erica would be there soon, most likely with Boyd in tow. Until then, all he had to do was wait.

***

Once Erica had arrived and Boyd settled in next to Derek at the bar, Derek felt his nerves flare up again. It was getting closer to 9:00, but Derek had no idea if Stiles was the kind of person to arrive early, on time, or wildly late. He realized yet again how little he really knew about Stiles and said a silent prayer to whoever might be listening that this didn't spectacularly backfire.  

Around fifteen minutes to 9:00 — not that Derek kept checking his phone screen before pointedly turning it over and pushing it away, only to repeat the motion two minutes later — the front door opened with a gentle clang. Just like the second time he walked into the bookstore, Derek seemed to register Stiles' presence in the back of his mind before he even turned to look. Sure enough, there he was, short hair mussed and cheeks red from the autumn chill that was biting at the air. He blinked owlishly, gaze wandering the bar and slowly adjusting to the dimmer lighting. When he saw Derek, his shoulders dropped in relief and he made his way to the bar with a casual wave.

Derek smiled and waved back, the gesture pulling Boyd away from his phone.

"Huh. So that's why you needed that favor so bad, I guess?" he said, voice low and unnervingly calm.

Derek took the mature route of saying nothing at all, choosing instead to elbow Boyd in the ribs.

Thankfully, Boyd wasn't nearly as hellbent on embarrassing Derek as Laura and Erica were, and he politely greeted Stiles when he hopped up onto the barstool next to Derek.

"Dude, this place is awesome," Stiles said, gesturing to the dark oak bar and cozy, deep-set booths. "You said it's your sister's place?"

Derek couldn't help but smile, both out of pride for the way Laura ran her business, and at Stiles' clear enthusiasm.

"Yeah. Laura worked for the previous owner for a while and took over a few years ago," Derek said, nodding toward the end of the bar where Laura was pouring a drink for another patron.

"Dang," Stiles said under his breath. "She looks almost as intimidating as you."

Boyd snickered, earning a glare from Derek.

"Derek only acts intimidating. Once you see him around Erica, you'll get it," he said, gesturing to the stage with his beer.

"How did you all meet?" Stiles asked, turning to face Boyd better. As he shifted his weight, his knees came distractingly close to Derek’s. Derek forced himself to look away from their point of almost-contact.

"Boyd and I met in grad school, and Laura was friends with Erica already. Once she met Boyd, she texted me about setting them up every day for a week," Derek said.

"I figured I'd just take pity on Derek, but Laura knew what she was doing," Boyd continued. "Erica and I started dating and... we all just get along." It was hard to communicate the depth of their bond without delving into their status as pack — Boyd and Erica, who had both been bitten as teenagers, thrived in Derek and Laura's company — but their friendship had still become a cornerstone of all of their lives regardless.

Stiles nodded, expression wistful. "I hope I start meeting more people soon. I knew I'd miss everyone but combined with working and school it's been... harder than I thought," he said, quickly looking away. Derek's heart surged with a rush of sympathy. His motivation for inviting Stiles to hang out may have been calculated, but he really did hope that Stiles felt at home around their nontraditional pack. He still remembered how lonely the first semester of grad school had been, and how grateful he was once Boyd's solid, thoughtful presence became more and more permanent.

Before Derek had a chance to reassure Stiles, Laura broke away from her other customers and approached their group with an expression that usually meant trouble for Derek. It almost impressed Derek how smoothly she narrowed her eyes at him pointedly before putting on her most winning smile and turning to face Stiles.

"Well, look at that! You must be Stiles," she said, offering her hand across the bar.

Stiles beamed. "And you're Laura. Nice to meet you," he said, shaking her hand.

"So Derek's told you all about me, then?" Laura asked with a poorly concealed wink in Derek's direction. Thankfully, Stiles just laughed and didn't seem to read anything into it.

"A few stories," said Stiles. "This place is —" Stiles trailed off and gestured around him with both hands. "— It's hella cool. This is such a great location, too."

"Yeah, it really is. Not too exposed, but still a good amount of traffic," Laura said with a smirk. Derek rolled his eyes, knowing how much she was enjoying herself. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Oh! Uh, yeah. Could I get..." Stiles drummed his fingers on the bar top, contemplating. "Single whiskey Coke?"

Laura's smile turned downright wolfish, in every sense of the word. "Huh! That's what Derek always gets," she said as she turned to grab a clean glass. "...Right down to the single part," she finished under her breath. Her voice was low enough that Stiles probably couldn't make out her words, but Derek could hear them crystal clear. Stiles had apparently caught the gist, though, and Derek immediately felt his face heat as Stiles' eyes flicked over to him. _Dammit, Laura._

"So," Boyd interjected, clearly sensing Derek's momentary distress. "Where are you living?" If anyone else had broken into the moment like that, it would have felt awkward, but to Derek's relief Boyd managed to make it seem like a natural progression of the conversation.

Stiles immediately launched into a detailed description of the cramped studio apartment — _but the location is amazing, really_ — he shared with his high school friend, Kira. Derek barely noticed the time pass as Stiles animatedly relayed a high school escapade involving the lacrosse field and several experiments in creating a giant, do-it-yourself Slip ‘N Slide, but before he knew it, Erica was stepping onto the small stage to plug in her guitar and check her microphones. When Laura and Erica had first met, it had been during Laura's brief stint as a fill-in background vocalist and amateur tambourine player for her roommate's band. Erica auditioned to replace the old lead singer, her ever-so-slightly raspy alto voice earning her a more than well deserved permanent spot. While law school would come to occupy most of her time five years later, she still regularly played at open mic nights and on weekends at the Blue Moon.

As she played, Derek couldn't help but shoot glance after glance at Stiles. He smiled as Erica introduced herself and shot the occasional joke at the audience, and cheered with genuine enthusiasm between each song. His entire presence seemed completely — yet subconsciously — in tune with the music, from the way his fingers tapped against his thigh to the gentle bob of his head. Derek was struck yet again with the way he seemed to fully open himself up to his surroundings, emitting an almost trancelike peace through his irrepressibly kinetic presence. Derek also noticed the way his second, then third drink seemed to take some of the edge off his movements, and he relaxed into the rhythm.

Erica spotted the trio near the end of her set, pinning Derek with a glare eerily similar to Laura's. He didn't know how much Laura had told Erica, and while he trusted Erica not to give away too much in front of Stiles, embarrassing Derek personally was most certainly still on the table.

After Erica wrapped up her set, Stiles turned to Derek and Boyd with a low whistle. "Damn. That was amazing. Are genius-level talents and scarily good genetics a prerequisite for joining this friend group?" His smile was easy, genuine, and Derek felt his stomach twist at the veiled compliment.

Boyd chuckled abruptly into his beer, leaving Derek to awkwardly stammer a response.

"That's... Well... She's something else," was what he finally settled on, cringing into his own drink, which he downed in a definitive final gulp.

"I sure am, Der," said a low voice behind Derek, whose shoulders jumped in surprise. How Erica managed to catch even him off guard, he would never know.

Erica draped herself over Boyd's shoulder and reached out to shake Stiles' hand. "And you're Stiles. Thanks for coming," she said with a grin that looked downright saucy but Derek knew was completely genuine. She cocked her head toward the other side of the bar and insisted they grab a booth. "I need a drink after that, and I'm not letting you all leave me to drink alone," she threatened, carefully taking Derek's upper arm and digging in her nails.

Stiles slid in next to Derek, nonchalantly letting his thigh rest against Derek's. The line of heat between them felt unbearably charged, and every time Stiles shifted and their legs brushed again, Derek was reminded that Stiles made no effort to avoid the contact.

When a friend of Boyd and Erica's passed by the table and stayed to chat with them a few minutes later, Stiles turned to Derek, smile warm and private. "So you told all your friends about me?" he asked, locking eyes with Derek.

Derek paused for a beat. Taken aback, the only thing he could think to say was the unvarnished truth — "Yes."

The sound of Stiles' heartbeat tripping over itself was unmistakable. _Yes_.

This was all spiraling rapidly out of Derek's control, yet his entire world felt narrowed down to the electric amber eyes staring straight into his own.

***  
As midnight came and went, Derek became completely convinced that being around Stiles caused time to slip and stretch out of place. Once the bar cleared out after Erica's set, Laura joined them during her stretches of downtime — the Blue Moon’s regulars were a close-knit environment, and anyone who needed something knew who to ask. Eventually, Stiles checked his phone, eyes widening in surprise.

"Shit, it's late. I don't know how I did this every night in undergrad," he said, stretching his arms above his head and stifling a yawn. "I'll probably get an Uber or something soon."

"Sorry for keeping you so late," Derek said hesitantly, hoping Stiles didn't mind being kept up.

Stiles waved his hands dismissively. "No, man, I had a great time. Thanks, seriously. It was great to meet you all," he said earnestly, picking at the label on his beer bottle.

"Thanks for coming," Erica said, her head resting on Boyd's shoulder. "I don't always play every week, but we're all here on Fridays. Open invitation," she said, and Derek knew that they both saw the way Stiles' eyes lit up.

"Come by anytime," Laura added, swooping by from where she had clearly been eavesdropping while counting down the cash register. "If you're going to head home, let Derek make sure you find your Uber," she said, jerking her head toward the door as she carried a stack of trays back to the dishwasher. Derek couldn't even be annoyed at her meddling — he didn't mind at all, if he was being honest.

"I really do appreciate it," Stiles said, sliding out of the booth and moving toward the door a few minutes later when his phone notified him that his driver was outside. "Shall we?" he asked, smiling cheerfully at Derek.

Derek braced himself against the cold as they stepped outside, heart pounding as Stiles shivered and leaned closer to Derek's warmth while they approached the curb.

Before he opened the car door, Stiles turned back to Derek. His face looked devastatingly open, and a small smile played at the corners of his mouth. "I had a really, really great time," he said softly, fists balled awkwardly in the pockets of his hoodie.

"I did too," Derek admitted, the truth of the words ringing in his ears as he said them. They paused for a beat, but just as Derek had nearly worked up the courage to reach toward Stiles, he turned and moved toward the car.

"I'll see you soon?" he asked as he stooped into the backseat, voice undeniably hopeful.

" _Yes_ ," Derek said, hoping Stiles heard the honesty in his voice. "I'll see you soon."

Derek watched the car pull away, staring after Stiles until the driver turned further down the block.

When he finally turned to go back inside, he could have sworn the faintest smell of electricity hung in the air.

***

Derek mentally prepared himself for an inquisition when he stepped back into the Blue Moon, but instead, his sister and friends at least tried to act casual.

"He's cool," Boyd offered, unsolicited, as they helped Laura stack the chairs and barstools.

"Yeah," Derek replied, unable to contain a small smile. "I had a good time."

He should have known, though, that Erica wouldn't let him off the hook so easily. As he stood behind the bar and removed the nozzles from the taps to clean them, Erica emerged from the kitchen and marched toward Derek like a woman on a mission.

"Okay, let me get this straight," she declared as she slid onto a barstool and folded her hands in front of her. Derek should have known that Erica would demand a debrief as soon as she put two and two together.

"You invite a guy with unspecified magical powers who you met, like, seventy two hours ago to your sister's magical bar, without any plans for what you'd actually, you know, do about it? _And_ you thought it would be a good idea not to tell me about it? Trust me, I just made Laura spill, but I am _not_ leaving until you tell me what’s going through that dark, handsome Hale head of yours.”

Derek sighed and averted his gaze from Erica's, crossing his arms in a gesture he fully recognized as defensive. The last thing he needed was to see her looking back at him with a completely unhelpful, self-satisfied smirk.

"It was Laura's idea," he said. “And we met on Monday.” He was fully aware of what a cop-out it was, but it _was_ the truth, and he knew Erica could hear it. She rewarded him with an eye roll and an impatient scoff.

"Since when do you listen to Laura? If she had it her way all the time, you might actually leave the shop more than once a week," Erica said, her eyes practically drilling holes in Derek's skull with their scrutiny. "And," she added as an afterthought, "your apartment might have more than three pieces of furniture."

Erica was absolutely right — especially about the furniture thing, though Derek maintained his unnecessarily expensive programmable coffee maker definitely counted as its own piece — but she also absolutely did not need Derek to reaffirm it.

"This is..." Derek hesitated, trying to find a satisfactory explanation for his behavior without opening himself up for too much forced introspection. "It's different." _He's different_ , he thought as soon as the words left his mouth. It wasn't just the situation — it was Stiles himself, too. And Erica was plenty perceptive. She cocked her head, obviously enjoying herself way too much to drop it and let Derek wallow in peace.

"How's it different?" she asked, crossing her arms in a mimicry of Derek's stance. "You probably bump into sparks and other shifters all the time just walking around this horrifically crowded city. I do. Doesn't mean I decide to adopt them all."

Derek sighed. "He doesn't know what he is. You saw it. He has enough energy to walk through the wards here and at the shop without even realizing it, but he's not accessing any of that power intentionally."

"So he walked through your magic bookshelf and now he's our problem?" Erica's words were devoid of heat as she continued prodding Derek.

"You have a way with words. Really. And..." Derek hesitated, unsure if revealing his motives to Erica would be a relief or just further ammunition in her interrogation.

"He fits in," Derek said with finality. "With us. Laura likes him, you like him. Even Boyd had a complete and mostly positive sentence to say about him."

A genuine smile graced Erica's face, and she leaned back as if finally satisfied with Derek's answer.

"And you like him?"

It was the deceptively simple question Derek had been trying to stave off for the past ten minutes. If he was being completely honest, it frightened him how easily a simple _"yes"_ floated to the surface of his thoughts. Derek didn’t _like_ people. He especially didn’t _like_ people he just met, and someone who had waltzed into his bookstore — and life — completely haphazardly was absolutely not a recipe for Derek to _like_.

But for as perplexing and chatty as Stiles was, his presence didn’t grate on Derek. In fact, it almost did  the opposite. As they sat around their table earlier that night, Derek had been happy to watch Stiles maneuver the meandering conversation with wit and candor. He spoke with an openness that Derek often struggled to access within himself, something only Laura and his mother ever really noticed. In their small pack, so far from home but strong nevertheless, Derek had never felt like anything was missing or incomplete. But as soon as Stiles entered the dynamic, everything seemed to feel even fuller and warmer than before.

So yes. Derek liked Stiles, and the thought was both strange and terrifying.

"He's a good kid. I think we can help him. And I think we should," Derek said, moving to wipe down the bar. Anything to avoid Erica's knowing look, though Derek knew full well it was way too late for that. She got what she wanted, and quickly moved straight to gloating.

"Right. Not what I asked, but that's an answer and then some," Erica says, hopping off her stool to grab an extra rag.

"Let me know when you've figured out an actual plan," she said, punching Derek in the shoulder as she  passed behind him. "He talks too much, but we can get used to him."

***

Over the next two and a half weeks, Derek ended up seeing Stiles more than once at the Blue Moon. While his recent habit was typically to stay late at the store and go straight home after closing up, Derek found himself spending more time around Laura, Boyd, and Erica, an unexpected benefit of inviting Stiles into their lives. Friday nights were a standing date for the whole group, but Stiles and Derek also started an unspoken routine of meeting after Stiles' last class on Wednesdays. The crowd was thinner in the middle of the week, and they found themselves spending hours discussing Stiles' research, Derek's stories from college, and whatever gripes from work they had both carried throughout the first half of the week.

"I'm serious," Stiles said before taking a long sip to finish the rest of his beer. "I know I'm lucky to have any job at all, but I do _not_ get paid enough as a TA to deal with most of this bullshit."

Derek winced in sympathy. He remembered his own days as a TA all too well, an awkward haze of intro-level courses and insufferable freshmen. "Laura's been talking about hiring someone to help out a few days a week," he mentioned, aiming for a nonchalant tone while cautiously anticipating Stiles' reaction. Sure enough, Stiles' eyes shot up from where he was absently scrolling through his phone.

"Seriously? Do you think... I mean..." Stiles searched, clearly excited but attempting to look nonchalant.

"She mentioned asking you, maybe. I mean, she still might take some applications, but... She likes you," Derek replied truthfully. Laura had mentioned bringing on another bartender on and off for months, but once she met Stiles, she had started seriously considering it again.

"Huh. Well, I'd be the best damn desperate employee she could hire," Stiles said, drumming his fingers on the table. "Hang on, I'll be right back." He slid from their booth and headed to the restroom, which Laura took as her opportunity to drop in and invade her younger brother's privacy.

"I'm hiring him. Also, _you need to tell him,_ " she murmured through gritted teeth, eyes flashing as if Derek couldn't already infer what she meant.

Laura was right. Stiles was undeniably part of their friend group now, but there was no way he could start working with Laura — or that Derek could let himself get any closer to him — without first learning what they were.

Derek's reluctance wasn't unfounded — both times the siblings had entered relationships with humans, the fallout had been varying degrees of terrible. The unfortunate reality was that werewolves tended to stick together, driven by the fear of rejection and — Derek shuddered at the mere thought — hunters. He had no idea how to have this conversation with Stiles, even if he was so deeply curious and accepting. If he was being honest, it wasn't just Stiles' fear that Derek was anxious about. It was also the possibility of rejection, possibly even disgust. Any time Derek had broached the subject in his mind over the past weeks, he quickly pushed it aside. But the longer it went on, the worse he felt, and hiding a fundamental part of his existence felt dishonest.

When Stiles returned to their booth, Derek determined — rashly, which was something Stiles seemed to bring out in him — that he needed to force himself to get it over with.

"I forgot to text you about it, but I was looking back through the Mythology section and I found another book that you might want to take a look at," he offered before he could stop himself. To be fair, he was telling the truth — except this time, it would involve explaining the real nature of the store's back room to Stiles.

"Oh, no shit? Can I come check it out sometime?" Stiles asked, eyes wide.

"When do you get off tomorrow?" Derek asked, even though he already knew the answer. Having Stiles' schedule semi-memorized wasn't something he needed to reveal at the moment.

"Office hours end at five, if that works?" said Stiles.

"That works," Derek replied, tipping his glass back to hide the nervous flush creeping up his cheeks. Laura would be satisfied, but Derek was terrified — and he still had no idea at all how Stiles would react.

***

The next day seemed to crawl by, each minute seemingly stretching into five more every time Derek looked up at the clock. _Five o'clock. Five thirty, really. Three more hours._

Derek had done his best to try and plan out what to say to Stiles. At first, he had considered asking Erica and Boyd to be there with him, but the last thing he wanted was for Stiles to feel overwhelmed or, even worse in Derek's eyes, threatened. No, he decided it should just be him, though Laura was standing by in case he needed backup. He thought it would be easiest to show Stiles his Beta shift while he explained the basics, figuring that he would be more likely to believe Derek if he saw it happen. Then — assuming Stiles hadn't already fled or fainted at that point — he would explain the nature of the back room, and the bar, and hopefully Stiles would connect the dots and realize what that meant about him.

He played it over and over in his head, trying to control for every possible reaction and variable. Even that couldn't soothe his nerves, though, and when he heard the front door bell at twenty minutes past five, he was certain that his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

"Hey, man," Stiles called as he stepped into the store. "What's up?"

"The usual," Derek forced out. "Here, it's in the back." He didn't want to waste any time with preamble or casual conversation — he had finally worked up the nerve, and he needed to act on it before it fizzled out again.

"You okay?" Stiles asked cautiously as Derek strode to the back. He must have sensed the tension in Derek's voice, which really shouldn't have surprised him.

Derek sighed. "Yeah, I'm okay. It's just..." As they stepped into the center of the room, he turned to face Stiles. "I need to talk to you about something."

"O-okay," Stiles replied, his heartbeat picking up speed.

Derek pressed his eyes together, scrubbing a hand over his face as he decided what exactly he would say.

"I've thought about this conversation over and over in my head for the past two weeks, and I still have no idea how to explain it or whether you'll believe me so I'm just going to say it, and hopefully you'll hear me out, but..." he looked into Stiles' warm brown eyes, heart pounding rapidly but steadily.

"Laura, and me, and Boyd and Erica, are werewolves."

The word hung between them for a moment. Stiles gaped at Derek, but remained rooted to his spot. _At least he's not running away,_ Derek thought absently. What followed, however, was nothing that Derek had prepared for in his hours of mental replays.

Stiles slumped, the tension draining from his shoulders. He tilted his head toward the ceiling, sighing deeply. "Were — Jesus. Of course you're fucking _werewolves_. That's why — Shit, Derek, I thought you were going to tell me you had some sort of terminal illness or something," Stiles said, dropping his head into his hands. "Fucking _werewolves._ Fucking _Blue Moon._ I don't know how that didn't tip me off sooner."

This time, it was Derek's turn to be speechless. After he collected his thoughts, he had no idea where to even begin.

"So you..." Derek hesitated. "You... believe me?"

Stiles laughed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, Derek, I believe you. Christ. I haven't been able to talk to _anyone_ about this but... My best friend? Scott? He got bitten when we were in middle school because he almost died from an asthma attack out on this hiking trail near our hometown," Stiles said, the words tumbling out like a confession.

Derek's mouth opened and closed again in surprise. Out of every single possible reaction he had imagined, _this_ had been his oversight. All along, as he agonized over whether and how to tell Stiles, _he knew about werewolves the whole time_.

"Are you okay?" Stiles asked again, softer this time, jerking Derek's focus back to him.

"I honestly don't know what to say right now. I really don't. I... Okay. So you know about werewolves," Derek said before taking a deep breath. "That might make this next part slightly easier to follow."

Stiles' eyebrows raised in surprise — _next part?_ — but he let Derek continue uninterrupted.

"Are you human?" Derek asked, softly.

A genuine smile broke out over Stiles' face, momentarily lifting the mood. "One hundred percent. Couldn't you smell it?" he said, voice teasing.

"That's the thing, Stiles. That's why I brought you back here. Humans aren't supposed to be able to enter this room, or see it at all."

The smile disappeared from Stiles' face, replaced with a furrow between his brows that Derek wanted to reach out and smooth away. "What are you saying?"

"I don't... I don't _know_ , Stiles. But you shouldn't have been able to pass the wards without having supernatural powers, or blood. The Blue Moon is the same way. It should have just looked like an empty warehouse," Derek said, frustrated at his own inability to formulate an explanation. "Do you know anything about magic?"

Stiles' face darkened. "No," he said softly. "I did some research on my own, a lot of research actually, and I know it exists, but... I'm not magic, Derek," he said, convinced that it was true.

"I've never met anyone who didn't know how to access their powers, but you can't be the only one," Derek reasoned. "You have a spark. You _have_ to," he said gently.

"Maybe mine is just... defective," answered Stiles, scuffing the toe of his sneaker against the floor. “I’ve spent time with Scott and his pack and no one has ever noticed anything. Wouldn’t they have been able to tell?”

"You're not broken," Derek said, the sharpness in his tone catching both him and Stiles by surprise.

Stiles looked back up at Derek, face shrouded in raw emotion. "Then what am I?"

Derek sighed. "I've never known as much as I should about magic, but my mother — my Alpha — has always had an Emissary that she works with. He's a druid. And from what he's said, and from what I've studied, it's channeled through your emotions. It's part of you, but you have to be properly grounded within yourself to use it. It's like —"

"— Like an anchor," Stiles interjected. Derek noticed the way his eyes lit up and felt a flare of hope.

"Like an anchor. You've never accessed it before because you never knew you could, but maybe now..." Derek trailed off, unwilling to promise Stiles anything that he wasn't certain could actually happen.

Stiles frowned thoughtfully. "Can I try something?"

"What?" Derek asked, hoping that whatever Stiles was thinking would work, but also wouldn't result in any overly destructive magical accidents.

"I just... I have an idea. Can I?" Stiles gestured to Derek, and all he could do was nod in assent. Stiles carefully placed both of his hands in Derek's, closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply. They stood like that for what could have been thirty seconds or five minutes — all Derek could focus on was the rapid thrum of their pulses where their skin touched and the way Stiles' eyes flitted beneath his eyelids. He was careful to stay perfectly still, not wanting to break Stiles' concentration.

After a few more deep breaths, Stiles' eyes fluttered open. Derek gasped when he saw them — no longer their distinctive honey-amber color, they glowed an incandescent shade of violet that Derek swore he had never seen before. He felt his own flash back subconsciously, like they did in response to his mother's Alpha red gaze. Derek rarely lost control over the smaller parts of his shift anymore, but nothing about it felt unnatural or wrong. It felt simply like an acknowledgement, a mutual recognition that sealed something deep inside him into place.

"What are you doing?" he asked breathlessly, his shifted gaze focusing on every detail of Stiles' face in sharp relief.

"I'm anchoring myself," Stiles replied simply.

Derek felt his heart skip a beat at the words, barely able to wrap his head around the enormity of what was happening. Stiles was indeed a spark — and somehow, after twenty one years, using Derek as an anchor was what he needed to access it.

"Let me try something." Stiles screwed his eyes shut, their glow still faintly visible from beneath his eyelids. He gently extricated his hands from Derek's, and held them in between them with his palms facing up. As Stiles' forehead scrunched in concentration, Derek noticed the smell of ozone and lightning beginning to surge around them. Slowly, pinpricks of violet light winked into existence over Stiles' outstretched hands before appearing faster and faster until they resembled a shifting, otherworldly orb of light. Stiles' eyes flew open, an expression of pure joy spreading across his face as he realized what he had created.

Before, Derek had no idea if Stiles would be able to use his magic at all, but instead, it seemed like a floodgate had opened and it was settling into Stiles' body. He held the orb of light between them, peering into it before it wobbled and vanished as quickly as it appeared.

" _Holy shit,_ " Stiles whispered, just as Derek exclaimed "do that again!" They both laughed, voices still hushed as if being too loud would break the spell that seemed to be holding both of them.

Stiles straightened his posture, inhaled deeply, and channeled another ball of energy into his outstretched hand. He laughed in delight, twisting it around his hand and holding it over his head for a moment.

"Stiles, this is — _you_ are — amazing," Derek murmured reverently. Stiles' gaze met Derek's, the violet haze of his magic slowly bleeding back into a honey-whiskey bronze.

" _You_ did this, Derek. I never would have known any of this if you hadn't helped me," he said earnestly, taking Derek's hands back into his own.

"I have no idea what the hell is going on," Derek replied, leading both of them to dissolve into laughter.

"Me neither. I _really_ have no idea what this is," Stiles said. "But you're the one helping me anchor it."

Derek searched for the words to describe how that admission made him feel, but everything seemed to fall short in the moment. Instead, he tried to communicate it with more than just words.

"Can I kiss you?" Derek asked, voice barely above a whisper.

" _Yes_."

As their lips met, Derek felt any hesitation he had melt away. The feeling of _rightness_ was almost unbearable, and he realized as he kissed Stiles that both their eyes were flashing violet and gold once again. He broke away, breathing heavily, and rested his forehead against Stiles'. They stayed locked in each other's' gaze for several moments, content to simply drink in one another's presence and softly sway to an unheard rhythm.

After a few beats of silence, Stiles cleared his throat. "Laura's going to flip her shit," he said, completely earnestly. Derek tossed his head back and laughed, finally relieved of the tension he'd been carrying for weeks.

"They all will. Boyd will just do it more quietly," he argued. Stiles laughed and rested his cheek on Derek's shoulder.

"Scott's going to freak out too. Do you think... Maybe this is weird, since we just met, but could I talk to your mom sometime? And her Emissary," he added quickly.

Derek hummed in agreement. "Of course. She'll want to talk to you anyway, all things considered." He felt Stiles smile against his shoulder, and wrapped both arms around him tightly.

"I can't wait," Stiles said, holding his hand out again to gather a mass of sparks.

"Me neither," Derek answered softly. He had no idea what the future would hold for them — a werewolf and a spark, anchors, hopefully lovers. But for now, he was content to steal a moment of solitude with Stiles, sharing soft kisses as violet points of light danced across the shelves and illuminated the room as the sun sunk below the horizon. The rest of the pack could wait. Right now, the world belonged to just the two of them.

***

**Author's Note:**

> Eeek! There it is! I hope you enjoyed, and feel free to join me on Tumblr at [sourwolfandlionheart](http://sourwolfandlionheart.tumblr.com/) whenever you need a Sterek fix — my messages are always open! And don't forget to check out the amazing [art](https://i.imgur.com/BkF8Mok.jpg) that inspired this entire AU!


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